


Like a Spinebarrel

by scavengertrash



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Belts, Bondage, Canon Compliant - Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Choking, Deepthroating, Double Penetration, Dubious Consent, Exhibitionism, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Face-Fucking, Forced Orgasm, Gloves, Kylo Ren is Not Nice, Master/Slave, Non-Consensual Bondage, Oral Sex, Painful Sex, Punishment, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Oral Sex, Spanking, Stockholm Syndrome, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-07-23 13:38:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16160024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scavengertrash/pseuds/scavengertrash
Summary: "Snoke thinks he can break her.No, it's worse than that. He thinks Kylo Ren can do what fifteen years on Jakku could not."Rey is given over to Kylo Ren following the failed attack on Starkiller Base. She takes power where she can get it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note the archive warnings and tags. Some people will call this full non-con, some will call it dubcon, but either way if you have sensitivity to issues of consent, you probably shouldn't read it because Rey is Kylo's prisoner and coerced.

Snoke thinks he can break her.

No, it's worse than that. He thinks Kylo Ren can do what fifteen years on Jakku could not do, thinks that she is foolish and naive and flimsy as the sheer clothes they outfit her with, which are so thin that she's perpetually fighting a shiver. Not an accident. Better that she has to wrestle not only with resisting them, but with masking her weakness.

The difference between Rey and the First Order is that she doesn't fear her weakness. She has had to be keenly aware of it, or she would have been dead — blindsided, like so many others had been on Jakku by those who would take advantage.

Like a spinebarrel, she can adapt to defend herself.

But Kylo Ren is the worst of it, truly. He's inept. Unpredictable. One minute he sits across from her, hands squeezing his knees to restrain himself, nervous and frozen. The next he is on her like a wild rancor, tearing her hair as he drags her bodily across the durasteel floor. To regain some semblance of control over a situation he has no say over, either, she thinks. It does not make her more sympathetic to him; she suspects herself of projecting that anyway, searching for familiarity and kinship where none is to be found.

When he comes to her in her cell today, his gleaming black helmet on, she knows that they are done playing. The air crackles around him, tense with the promise of violence and purpose.

She leaps to her feet not out of anticipation but in an effort to have more leverage; it doesn't matter. He grabs her by the shoulder and forces her back down, not to her narrow cot, but to her knees.

"The Supreme Leader has grown impatient." The helmet distorts his voice. She hates it.

"Tell the Supreme Leader where he can stick it."

This time, Kylo doesn't listen to it. He cuffs her across the face. It can't properly be called a slap with his gloves on, for the leather dulls it by half measures, but she's still struck. She stays frozen for a moment after, and he does too.

Somehow, it is a boundary crossed. He has done her harm before. Manhandled her. But a slap is personal. A slap is a last-ditch effort to scramble at power and control when there is none to be taken. She looks up at him, gaze hard with resolve.

"Congratulations. As long as I'm unarmed, you can manage to strike me."

He does it again, this time on the other cheek. Rey spits and blood stains the durasteel floor. Kylo Ren orders the stormtroopers away from her cell.

"You don't want them to hear me refuse you again?"

"This is something else."

"Worse, then." She finally gets it. Something has changed. Whatever shyness and reservation he held before is gone. Rey pulls at the binders on her wrists, shifting her arms.

"The Supreme Leader believes I have been too patient with you. Too gentle."

"Has he met you?"

Kylo grabs a fistful of her hair then, pulling it so her scalp prickles and burns and her head tilts back. She looks up at him, jaw clenched.

"You're done being shy."

"Yes."

She had begun to think his fear was too much, that he didn't have it in him. Frankly she had been grateful. It meant her suffering was of another sort; tolerable, in a way. They'd developed a relationship of sorts around the awareness that he could not bring himself to do what he had set out to do, and she was playfully unafraid as a result. Now she has reason to fear.

_Like a spinebarrel,_ she reminds herself, and she notes, "You could at least free my hands."

"You won't need them."

He is, as ever, a man of practicality. Were she not aware now of what he meant to do, she would perhaps find it in herself to respect that, see a kinship in it. But kinship is gone now that the game is gone. Rey turns her head away until his grip on her hair gets to be too tight, and then she releases a grunt. Not a cry.

"Stop struggling," he sounds impotently annoyed, even through the vocoder. He, the one on his feet and with the code to these binders. It's a small comfort, lost entirely as he unbuckles his belt and unfastens his tunic up to his navel. His pants ride unreasonably high.

She cannot make out his cock under the faintly glossy black material. Perhaps that is why he has avoided this. Perhaps he's small, and sensitive about it.

No. It's much worse than that. As he unzips, pushes his pants down around his thighs, she can see that he's got a thick slug of a thing lying flaccid against his pale thigh. It's not quite ruddy — only a shade pinker than the rest of him. Rey knows how this works. Filled with blood it could easily stand to be twice that.

"Looks like you're not up to the task," she says savagely.

"I have faith in your ability to correct that."

He drags her closer until her cheek presses against his shaft and she can smell him. She'd expected him to smell filthy, at least like sweat, but there's only a faint musky odor that mingles with citrus and something crisp. He has showered recently, maybe even just before he'd arrived. Instead of making her feel grateful, she just feels resentment. He has been premeditating this.

Rey looks up at him, but she can't see anything through his helmet. It stares back at her, soulless. Slowly he reaches up and presses the latch of it, as if sensing her search. It is a compromise, of sorts. She clings to that, and draws a breath as the helmet hisses and he removes it, tossing it aside on her bunk.

Lack of sleep has left his eyes red-rimmed, dark circles sagging under them. The cut of her lightsaber gouged his face, healed to a scar now. He looks terrible, but solemn. Resolved everywhere but his eyes, which are plaintive.

"Ask me," she tells him. His mouth twitches. "Ask me _nicely,_ or I'll bite you."

It's the only power she has here, and she's sure as hell going to take it. Even this, she's sure is a longshot. He could just steer her around if he wanted to. Hold her still with the Force, and — Well, maybe not just thrust in. Not if he were struggling to perform this. It's a complicating factor which makes her uneasy too.

He doesn't seem to want this any more than she does.

"Rey." His voice trembles with the warning. It is the first time he has used her name. More importantly, a warning is not a 'no.' It doesn't dismiss her as ridiculous for suggesting it.

"Ask." She repeats, eyes wide, emboldened by his hesitation. She turns her cheek slightly, rubbing it against his shaft, suggesting friction that she won't yet give him.

Dryly, gutturally, he murmurs, "Please."

And she doesn't feel like a prisoner anymore. Even with her hands locked behind her back in binders, she feels like the one holding the yoke. Something blooms in her chest, warm and sure and deeply satisfied to see what she has reduced him to.

Without verbal reply, she sets to her task. She's never done this before. Perhaps she ought to have warned him, but perhaps _he_ ought to have thought of that before he started turning prisoners into sex slaves.

Rey wets her lips and then presses a series of sloppy kisses to the short, slightly wrinkled length of his cock. It's not so bad, she thinks. A little awkward on account of not having proper leverage — it's a bit difficult to get at him — but there's no terrible taste. She watches something ripple through the muscle she can make out of his abdomen. Which is considerably muscled, really. He's built like a star destroyer, but he flutters as she kisses down his cock.

Her tongue gets around the head then, swirling and probing. It's an exploration.

"That's not—" He starts to complain, but his breath arrests the sentence, caught in his throat. Good. She likes him better when he can't try to order her around. If he wanted to have opinions on her technique, he could do it himself.

The sentence never finishes. Presumably because she gives him what he wants then, which is to swallow him into her mouth. She's careful with her teeth, and perhaps too cautious in how she opens her jaw wide to bring him in. He's thick, but not that thick. For a while after her lips seal around the base, he just lies flatly against her tongue before she realizes, well, maybe there should be some sucking involved in this.

It would be easier if he were already hard, she thinks, but then she'd probably not have such an easy time getting him all the way into her mouth. Flaccid, he already starts to push as far as she'd want him in her throat. Not that she wants him in her mouth at all, but — Well, she won't examine that too closely. She's making the best of a bad situation.

But it was her help he'd requested, and it seems to have the intended effect as she begins to slurp back and forth along his shaft. The velvety skin of his cock, much softer than she'd imagined, slips against her tongue, stretching slightly. He's soft and pliant, but with each swallow, he becomes less. Her lips stretch, and she gets further and further from the base with each bob as he swells.

Satisfied noises choke in his throat. He does not want to give her that power, but —

She pops off his cock.

"No one's ever done this for you before, have they?" He looks offended, and he grabs at the back of her head to pull her back onto his cock without reply.

She'd been correct, then. It's a small comfort as he thrusts his cock past the circle of her lips with a grunt and she finds her mouth full with only half of it past her lips. Her eyes go wide and she makes a choked noise, pushing back against his hand to try to keep him from stabbing into her throat.

A predatory smile tugs across his lips as he suggests, "I'm not the only one."

How charming that they're sharing this moment together, then.

"Take it," he encourages her, pulling her head further down. Rey starts to struggle, her tongue trying to force him out. "Relax," he says. Karking _relax,_ while he's trying to wrestle her into something she now knows with utmost certainty he just saw in a holo once.

She could kill him, but only if she survives this.

He doesn't seem keen to yield to her struggles, so she shuts her eyes, stops focusing on his face to focus on the thick length he's set on jamming down her throat. Rey gulps around it and her throat twitches with the urge to vomit as the head of his cock nudges into the back of her throat. There's still so much of him that she hasn't swallowed yet. Just when she's thinking he can't really be that huge, he reaches the back of her throat, and she tries to relax, tries to open it up and bring her mind elsewhere so that her eyes feel a little less like they're burning with uncomfortable tears.

He pulls back.

She gasps her relief as he pulls out of her. Rey coughs and sputters and pants and ignores the warmth that drips down her body, that twinges between her thighs to imagine him seated there, so big, stretching her cunt like he's stretching her mouth.

Whatever shyness had possessed him while he was flaccid and uncertain of his performance, he has moved past it now. He hooks his leather-clad thumb behind her bottom teeth and drags her closer.

"You're not done yet," he tells her. But his voice is rough and needy instead of sharp and commanding, and she looks up through blurry eyes to see that his face is red. He has made himself vulnerable to her. No wonder he is eager to have it over with and escape it.

"Believe me, I wish I were."

He grabs her by the hinge of her jaw, digs his fingers into it to force her to open wide, and he thrusts his cock back into her mouth. She gags around him as he thrusts straight to her throat this time. It doesn't give him pause. He shifts his hand into her hair and holds her steady while he fucks her mouth, and Rey is left to desperately try not to choke on him, to try and keep her teeth from scraping him.

Briefly she fails. Her teeth scrape his shaft. She knows he feels it because he hisses sharply, but it's almost like his cock pulses with want for that pain as he forces her face then all the way down to the base of his cock. Not punishment, then. Need. Her nose is buried in the thick coils of his pubic hair, tamed and neatly trimmed, and he holds her there while she swallows around him over and over and over. Trying to breathe is a foregone loss.

The tears come. Rolling down her cheeks, more from strain than anything else. Rey feels no grief in this. Only the physical hardship.

Distantly she can hear his grunts of pleasure, but they mean nothing to her at this point. She just hopes she doesn't pass out before— Ah. He lets her go. This time she wobbles, falls back into a sitting position, and with her arms bound, she nearly teeters over onto her side. She's choking, gagging, turning her head to spit up loose saliva that has gathered in her mouth to smooth his way. As if her body knew exactly what to do for this.

He grabs for her and she snarls at him.

"If you want to come, then _let me do it._ " His hand twitches mid-air, hesitates. Good. She puffs out angry breaths through her nose, nostrils flaring with it. It's good to have control again. "Sit down."

This command, he obeys. Rey shuffles towards him on her knees. He looks better like this. Wide-eyed and flushed and shiny with sweat. Hungry. No one's ever looked at her like that before, and she attributes the surge of warmth in her groin to that alone. It has nothing to do with him.

His cock is shining with her spit and dark and thick. It is hard to willingly descend onto it again, knowing he might force her to take too much, but he has also shown her that her limits are further than she'd believed. She can use that.

Rey settles for taking just the head at first to test his patience. His breathing arrests, but he makes good on his agreement to her demand. His hands settle in her hair with a greater gentleness than she'd believed him capable of. Seeing her willingly do this ('willingly') must do more for him than his brutish efforts ever had.

Her tongue swirls there, drags along the underside and finds a thick vein. She is learning him, for better or worse. She massages that vein with her tongue as she bobs, taking a little more of him each time. Slurping around him creates a suction which pulls the head of his cock against the roof of her mouth, sliding gradually further.

Tension coils through his body, strains his hips upward, but it's in his arms that she can see it the worse when she occasionally glimpses. They are rigid, elbows locked to his hips, refusing to allow himself the permission to drag her back down now that she has given him this instead. It puts her at ease, affords a layer of trust that on later scrutinizing would be hysterical.

So she hums her approval — not quite gratitude, but it's easier to enjoy like this. When she can taste the salty hint of his arousal every time she draws back and swipes her tongue across the head of his cock, something forming there. She hazards a glance up and sees it written across his face: unchecked reverence and wonder. Her heart jumps out of her chest and she decides then _not_ to reopen her eyes, lest she see him as a person again.

To break his gaze she takes him down her throat again, holding him there for a few seconds each time to give herself time to adjust to it. The thrusting had been too much, but this … This is doable. She allows herself a moment on the third attempt and she swallows around him, feels her throat squeeze his cock head where it sits behind her tongue.

"Rey," he rasps it out finally, the culmination of a series of aborted whines and squirming sounds, of husky breath and stuttered panic. It's the only warning he gives before as she sucks him down again, a hot mess of salt spills in her mouth. There's some force behind it, enough that it gets into her throat and she almost coughs around him.

But that's her bed he's sitting on, and she's not going to sleep in the mess of his orgasm. She sputters but takes him deeper so she can swallow without chancing a drop being lost to her already uncomfortable, scratchy bedding. He twitches, thrashing then, gripping her hair like she's an anchor and he's adrift.

She can't quite tell what's saliva and what's his spend at this point, so when she finally breaks away, it's because he has pulled on her hair, feeding the heat under her skin as she decides that she likes it. She gasps for air, lips swollen and parted and sticky with his spend as she looks up at him from her kneeling position.

He's breathing hard. Flustered. Afraid of her, somehow. She can feel it.

They hold each other's stare for only a moment. Rey's certain he's going to take her into his arms, throw her down onto the bed, but —

Instead he pushes her aside and rises hastily to his feet. He stuffs his wet, softening cock away and zips up, closing his tunic again and collecting his belt with the Force, not by bending to pick it up. Lazy. The sight of his haste shocks Rey, stabs her where it hurts.

It's only when he has made his way out of her soundproofed cell, and the stormtroopers have returned, that it occurs to her that he had lost control of his efforts to subdue her. That she had not been broken in the slightest, but she had cracked him open and reached some deep, lost part of him. She'd seen something human in this room, in that moment. And it had terrified him.

Snoke would order him back. She'd see him again. But she had been right. Despite his _Supreme Leader's_ highest hopes, Kylo Ren could not break her. But she might just break him.


	2. Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo Ren attempts to seize control back after being Rey subverts his efforts to break her by using her as a sexual slave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for full-blown rape (for both ?? ? parties ?? ?), painful sex, loss of virginity, bondage, and unfulfilled praise kink. No one's having a good time here. Dead dove do not eat.
> 
> 'Happy' ... Kinktober ...

As a rule, Kylo Ren does not provide compliments.

It would be uncanny if he did, given how selective he is in speaking at all. He is less chatty, though, now that she has made him come.

Still she can hear it in the low whine in the back of his throat when she takes him into her mouth, see it in his flush and the way his eyes lock on hers as she peers up at him through the curtain of her lashes.

These are compliments. She undoes him.

It grates on her all the same. Her wrists are bound only when he visits, ensuring she cannot fight back against him, but she is too prideful to take her pleasure into her own hands, despite the way their encounters leave her damp and feverish. He puts her away each time without attention to her body in the slightest, only marginally less spooked than the first time.

It bothers him that he keeps coming back for this.

He won't touch her, and she won't ask him to, but she needs it. It is all she has in this place, the closest thing to a human connection. Isolation makes her desperate for it. She hates him, yet she aches for his touch.

When he comes to her next, she sheds her clothes before they bind her.

She cannot make out his face behind the mask, but it tilts just barely, and she knows he is regarding her body. Rey's breath shivers out of her. She's coltish and stocky; too muscular and too skinny all at once, and covered in freckles, but also sweat and oil. They have scarcely allowed her a sonic, not since her last escape attempt. He cannot possibly see anything that he wants there, but he is rendered silent for a long enough moment that she dares to regard it as some kind of approval.

"What are you doing?" He asks, audibly uncomfortable in spite of the distortion on his voice. Rey smothers the satisfied curl of her mouth.

"You haven't touched me. Not once."

Silence meets her accusation.

"I figure it must be because you've never seen a naked woman before, so you don't know what to do with one, and—" She tried to get all of the words out before he gets her by the hair. "If sucking your cock were going to make me spill Resistance secrets, don't you think I would have by now?"

Neither Snoke nor Kylo have managed to get anything out of her. Not yet, at least. She intends to keep it that way, and if she wants to keep it that way, she needs to keep control.

"How many have you had?" he asks it like he doesn't really want to know.

"None."

There is no point to lying. He would see it for what it was immediately, and he would only take greater joy in ruining her. Rey keeps her chin high instead. She has offered it to him, and that gives him long pause with this new information. He'd taken her for a common whore. Unsurprising, given that he used her like one. She was now, she supposed.

It rankles her, knowing she'd made it off Jakku without selling any piece of her body, and now it has been stolen for nothing. By _him._ She tries to keep her expression steady, firm, to not feel that sense of loss.

"Put your clothes back on."

"You're a coward," she tells him.

He does not react as he disappears back out the hallway. The stormtroopers come to unbind her, and she sits in a pile of her clothes, miserable and feeling worse for having tried to seduce him than anything else. Surely he would fuck her eventually, but she did not have to adapt so readily to her circumstances.

The next time someone comes for her, it's a man with flaming red hair and a look on his face like he's just smelled something terrible. The other officers salute him as he drags her down the hallway. She has stubbornly refused to put her clothes on, and perhaps relatedly, it has been days since Kylo has come to her.

She is taken into a lift.

"Where am I going?"

The red-headed man slaps her for asking. She tastes blood on her lip, worries at the cut left behind with her tongue. It tastes like iron but it confirms she's awake and still alive.

"Where is Kylo Ren?"

Something about the name rankles the man who holds her reins. He grabs her hair and tries to force her to the ground, but he is too weak. The stormtroopers assist him by taking out the back of her knees with their batons. She yelps.

"You don't ask questions, _whore."_

He grabs her by the chin and turns her head up towards him.

"If Ren were more competent, you would already know your place. I would already have you eating out of my hand." She doubts this is true. Particularly because he puts his thumb between her teeth like a fool, and yelps when she bites down hard. She nearly gets it to come off, she thinks, for she can taste blood and he's cradling it to his chest when he recoils and the stormtroopers take a full swing at her with their batons.

This time, the stun setting is on.

She doesn't stay unconscious for long. Minutes, maybe. But she is back in a metal rack, arms and legs tied.

Notably, she is naked.

Blessedly, she is alone.

In a locked room with only her old friend the interrogation chair for company, Rey can't help but think how glad she is that she'd managed to avoid that red-headed officer until now. It feels wrong to consider Kylo kind, but he is undoubtedly more gentle with her. If only because he seems spooked by her.

Looking down at her current predicament, though, she thinks maybe spooked came back around again.

It feels like she waits ages for anyone to even acknowledge her. The small novelty of being out of her cramped cell fades away. By the time the door hiss open, her mouth is parched and her legs are tired and her arms are stiff from being locked in position.

Kylo enters like a specter, his robes dusting the polished durasteel, his helmet firmly in place. However absurd it is, something relaxes in her chest. Not entirely — a fluttering hint of panic remains, threatening her with the strangeness of having her brought here in such fashion — but enough that the tension leaves her shoulders. Somehow, his presence has proven palliative. He does not immediately speak, but lets the door slide shut behind him and stares at her from behind that mask.

"Take it off," she tells him.

He doesn't.

A message, then. Whatever power he had surrendered to her by allowing her ( _allowing her?)_ to suck him off, he's taking it back. Insulating himself behind that mask, holding her in this chair so that she cannot tempt him, overwhelm him, prowl and paw and take charge of the situation to set him on his heels.

She swallows thickly.

"I said take it off."

"You know the location of the Resistance base." The vocoder makes his voice sound like a rumbling murmur, but she can hear the tension flicking through it. The current ripples in the air too, reaching her. He is on edge with her. "Give it to me."

"I won't," Rey says stiffly. "You know I won't. So why don't we just move ahead. Is the next bit where you shove your cock down my throat to make me remember?"

"No."

The panic returned. Clawing its way up her throat and tensing every muscle in her back and arms like it had never been gone. The binders around her ankles released. For a moment she dared to celebrate the release, but then he advanced, and she realized it was the mark of worse.

Approaching him in her cell, where she could pin him and ride him and control him, she'd been prepared for that. This faceless dark creature swooping in to take her is another matter entirely. Rey grunts, kicking for him as though it might keep him at a distance, but all it does is allow him to grab onto her ankle and hold her leg steady and askew. She thrashes against that grip.

"Let me go," she snarls. "I want my hands free. You don't have to _hold me._ I'll give it to you."

"I am not interested in what you have to give to me unless it is information on the location of the Resistance's base."

He doesn't deserve to sound so cold, saying it. She knows better. He is trembling too, though whether he's fearful for his own sake or hers remains to be seen. Not so long ago she wouldn't have given him the benefit of the doubt at all, not even withheld judgment. But seeing him human and vulnerable and overwhelmed had changed that. Seeing how he compared to that red-haired officer had changed _her._ She can no longer deny the softness in how he had reached for her before, and now, as soon as she has recognized it, she has lost it.

Another hand closes around her other ankle and he pushes his way between them, the heavy quilted fabric of his tunic coarse against her bare folds. She can't tell if he's hard, and with the size of him, she wants to take that to mean he can't possibly be. But it's just as likely his layers of clothing.

Her breath hitches.

"You have enjoyed this," he tells her. "This time, you won't."

"I haven't enjoyed anything."

But thick, hoarse breaths interrupt her speech, slowing it, and those tell a different story. His presence has aroused her. That ought to be humiliating, given that he has announced himself again for the monster he is, reminding her what she must have forgotten. It's not. She can no more control that than R'iia can actually control the weather; it's the same brand of folly. Better she allow herself to make it go more smoothly without letting guilt eat her up about it.

"You won't show me your face," she says. "But you are going to have to show me your cock."

It's the little control she can grasp at, and Kylo makes her pay for it.

He forces her legs wider apart, but this time not with his hands. The Force itself seems to press air against her inner thighs and shove them open, and she cries out her surprise. It's an uncomfortable stance, her pelvis lifted and her knees wide apart. Jakku left her strong-bodied, but this isn't a pose she's had particular use for. Until now.

"Don't worry," he tells her, the softness belying the way he pulls out his cock. She'd been wrong, before. It stands at attention, pale flushed skin drawing the eye. "You'll learn."

Even her mind is not her own. Not the surface of it, at least. The parts he can easily glean.

She turns her face away, smothering the fear in her expression. Seeing how nervous she became when considering his size against hers would only feed his ego.

"You are the only one with the power to end this," he reminds her.

For a moment she is struck by what a genuine plea that sounds like. He takes her jaw in one enormous gloved hand, forcing her face towards his helmet that he might regard her better. His other hand holds fast to his cock, angling it towards her.

He will not go slow. She can remember the way he'd treated her when she'd tried to suck him off. She cannot expect better. But sparing herself a little pain (or a lot) to sell out all of those people in the Resistance … She can't do it. The math doesn't take.

Even if it's a pain he seems to share.

That consideration flies straight out the window when he enters her. His size is worse than she'd expected. He must be tearing her, _must be,_ for the stretch burns every inch that he slides in. Her eyes widen, and she goes rigid in that awful interrogation chair. Every part of her rejects even the possibility of him fitting in here, and quickly muscles she didn't knew she had set about trying to keep him out.

Instinct, as it happens, only makes the pain worse.

"Relax," he growls at her. Even with the vocoder, she can tell his teeth are gritted and he has forced the word out with a grunt.

"I. _Can't."_

For a moment, he pulls back, and a numb, limp sort of relief washes over her. She fools herself for that moment into believing he has simply given up. She wants to believe what that officer had said earlier — that Kylo is too incompetent to understand what he must do to break her.

As soon as the hope sinks in, he tries again, this time with more force, more purpose. His cock slides in further, slick with her sparse arousal, and the sudden thrust forces all the air from her lungs. Tears break the line of her eyes. She drops her head back, fighting to get her breath under control.

In him, she can feel the swell of some emotion — accomplishment, maybe. Not quite pride. It sickens her.

Him, too, she thinks, for it seems to go on too long, and the longer it takes, the more she feels that emotion fade. He sets a steady pumping rhythm, and it gets easier with time, fluids making it easier for him to glide into her channel. The pain is less after a time, but by then her nerves are too raw, and the pleasure is gone too.

They are dragging each other through this. He had blamed her for not giving up the information, but he is the one who can't seem to just get it over with.

Eventually his breath comes rasped and uneven through his mask, a garbled panting, and she knows it to mean he's close. She knows all of the intimate corners of himself, and takes small comfort in the fact that this one is recognizable despite his efforts to hide himself. He quickens, trying to chase out that feeling.

And chase it.

And chase it.

He slows again, marked by the quieting the rattle of the interrogation chair's fastenings under his thrusts. He has failed to find completion.

He'll get nothing out of her by taking it.

She is too raw, too numb, to tell him so. Her jaw quivers with the effort of withstanding his assault. Tears have cut a pale path down both he cheeks, and as he draws back, pulling out of her to his great disappointment — she can feel that too — she stares right into the pitch black of his helmet's visor.

Slowly her gaze drops with his to consider how his cock has softened under the pressure of punishing her this way. It is hardly surprising that he has not succeeded at being a monster. She has already seen him vulnerable — but from behind his mask, with her restrained, she can sense that it has surprised _him._ That might be the only hope either of them has.

His _Supreme Leader_ would have them ruin each other, given the chance, but only so long as Kylo Ren continues to allow it.


	3. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo Ren returns to Rey on Snoke's order, but finds himself overcome by the shame of what he has done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings here for choking (asphyxiation), some stockholm syndrome-y codependence, gloves kink, forced orgasm, and cunnilingus. Happy Kinktober.

She spent hours strapped there, sore and sticky, before stormtroopers came to carry her back to her cell, hours Rey promised herself she would not soon forget.

Whatever human feeling she had stirred in Kylo Ren had not spurred him to human action, but instead sent him scurrying into the embrace of the Dark. She wanted to blame Snoke, but couldn't. Kylo had hurt himself too, pressured to by his Master, but Snoke hadn't been in the room. It had been Kylo who possessed the power to prevent that hurt.

Still she found herself longing for the companionship he provided by the time a few meals had passed. Three days, she guessed, though it was difficult to measure in space and more difficult to measure in a cell with no chrono. Rey hated the way she searched for something to break up the monotony and loneliness of isolation. She had spent her whole life alone, miserable, but she'd always had work to occupy her, and she'd always had hope of her parents' return.

Looking to Kylo Ren for that companionship had been desperate and sad.

She was still eating one of her tasteless protein meals when a fumbling sound started down the hall. In however long she'd spent here, Rey had never heard anything like scuffling. Stormtroopers weren't easily taken off guard. She lifted her head, brow furrowed, and approached the energy barrier that kept her enclosed.

A dark figure appeared in the hallway and she doubled back in a hurry, stepping her heel in the wet mess of her food.

_Kriff._

Kylo Ren stood on the other side of the barrier, but his mask was gone and his hair wild, askew. Red rimmed his eyes, and dark shadow had made his lower lids heavy and swollen, like bruises deep in his skin. Sweat stuck in a fine sheen on his skin, but it looked clammy and damp, not glowing as it often had when she buried her face between his legs.

Most jarring, though, was that he was here at all. He had barreled straight past the stormtroopers, neglected to have them cuff her or drag her anywhere, and he stood outside her cell with heaving shoulders all on his own, looking like he was coming apart.

If he had been hoping their last encounter would help him regain control, he had failed.

"Open it," he ordered them, and one of the stormtroopers approached to touch the console beside the cell.

For a moment, a brief moment, hope fluttered in her chest as she wondered if he really might be freeing her. Dread that it was worse than that, so much worse, poisoned it. He could be taking her to kill her.

She stood, frozen, inside her cell.

"You are coming with me," he said clearly.

"Who's orders?"

A pause filled in where he lacked reply. Briefly, his eyes, ragged and wild, flicked over her. She was naked still. No one had bothered to bring her _clothing_ in these days. Reluctantly he unclipped his cape and stepped into the cell.

When he reached up to bring the cape around her shoulders, she flinched, and something twitched in his mouth when he saw it. The fabric was heavy around her, but she let it settle on.

"Snoke's." His reply was not unsympathetic. But she knew, now, what to expect.

"I'm not going anywhere." A feral snarl from a feral girl. She shoved him back. "Not with you. You can tell Snoke—"

"Tell him yourself."

"—that I want nothing to do with him!"

In their stalemate, Rey and Kylo exchanged baleful stare for baleful stare, impassive and unflinching. Tension rippled through the muscles of his jaw.

"He will not accept no for an answer."

"You have that in common with him then."

" _Rey."_ For a moment, something cracked in his eyes. He didn't know what to do about her refusal. Something was pushing him through it. He cracked his neck, as if alleviating some deeper-than-bone itch, and he turned to regard the stormtroopers who lingered. Their faces were hidden, but their silence felt uneasy. They didn't know whether to help or avert their gaze. Kylo cleared it up for them by saying, "Leave."

She'd never seen troopers move so fast.

Her skin itched now that she was alone with him, his cape secured around her shoulders in a caricature of modesty, and Kylo Ren appearing even less stable than usual. She wouldn't allow it to flag her nerve, not one bit, so as soon as the stormtroopers were out of view, she took up her complaint.

"Do you have any spine at all? I _saw_ what it did to you."

"You do not know what you're talking about."

"I know _exactly_ what I'm talking about. You did it to _me._ "

There it was again, the fracture in his expression. But it didn't mean anything to her, that face. Not when she had seen it, and he had hurt her anyway. It didn't matter that he was breaking if he would do nothing to stop it.

But then, with all the smoldering grief of a dying fire, he said, "I will not hurt you again."

And she believed him.

"Prove it," she said. He'd made her regret that she had ever ached for his touch by offering it with a cruel hand, but surely if he could make that promise, then he wasn't past hope. The connection she'd felt was real. Seeing him vacillate brought tears to her eyes, but she scrunched her expression to fight them back, to face the burn without surrender, and said, "You have no idea how alone I felt."

"I will," he said. "After."

"Not after. Now."

She was growing to appreciate that twitch of his mouth as he chewed on the inside of his cheek. It had been her constant companion in her time trapped here within the First Order. It returned now, and she knew she had him.

"What do you want?"

"I told you," she said. If he thought she was going to do the work of figuring out how _he_ could apologize, he had another thing coming. There would be no neat, organized checklist. What he had done was too messy for that.

Snoke was waiting for them. She realized it as Kylo advanced on her, looming over her with an unbridled intensity in his gaze the likes of which even she hadn't seen. It brought a tremor to her hand, her chin, but she didn't budge. If he forced her, threw her over his shoulder and hauled her off, that would be the end. However foolish it was, she wanted to believe that he wouldn't do that. She wanted to _hope._

His hands clasped her shoulders and he guided her gently, slowly, to the cot. Confusion writ across her face, she looked up at him, searching him for some clear intent. She caught onto it a second before he knelt before her, prostrating himself as if he were before his master, not some scavenger he had chased off Jakku.

Rey's mouth fell open, and confusion creased her forehead.

Most baffling at all was the anxiety she could feel rippling off of him. She had made him nervous, somehow, and he chased it by resting his hands on the outside of her knees and leaning up to draw a kiss out of her.

It was the first time she had kissed him. She had taken his cock inside of her over and over again, but they had never kissed. It seemed a simple thing, and in that way, also monumental — an intimacy that he had never allowed them in the past. She melted into it, pressing one hand to the side of his face.

In truth it was the first time she had kissed _anyone._ She couldn't even remember chaste kisses from her parents, not properly. But she tried to learn from what she had seen, parted her lips and let her tongue slide out over his, grazing the edge of his teeth. Somehow she had expected to find them sharper, inhuman, despite the fact that she had seen them before in passing glimpses. She could not help but think of him as some creature that might devour her, but now that the moment has come, she was the one devouring him.

Gradually he chased a path from her lips to her neck, all along the hard edges of her jaw. That won a sigh from her, content and appeased.

"I've felt it too." He whispered it like he didn't want the Force itself to overhear.

More intoxicating than the kiss was the powerful weight of being so wholly understood. Rey loosened, put at ease as a warm surge of wetness gathered between her thighs. Shame never occurred to her, not for this, so she reached out to take his hand and presses his fingertips to her folds, begging him to see the effect he had on her.

In turn he groaned against her throat, awed by it like he saw himself somehow undeserving.

"Prove it," she said again, this time more plea than ultimatum.

In that instant they arrived at the same understanding together. Kylo drew back, and she could see it in his eyes. He scanned her face for permission, and she nodded to him, giving herself over to it.

He ducked back in, this time kissing down her throat to her clavicle. His tongue inexpertly explored her clavicle, and where he wasn't sure what to do, he relied more heavily on his teeth. Kylo Ren was a wild thing that knew only aggression, and it was true even when he was making love. And she revelled in it.

Steadily he charted a path down her sternum, and to her nipples, which he plucked and nipped and sucked without strategy. Still the flood of her arousal grew, dripping out of her, leaving her eager and squirming, wrapping her legs around his middle. His torso was thick, and she realized it now that she had access to more of him.

Only then did it occur to her to grab a fistful of his hair, which was soft as silk and thick, and he hissed when the grip tugged too tight, so she did it again, but deliberately to maneuver him down towards the hollow of her hips.

After laving that spot with his tongue, he pressed a series of open-mouthed kisses over her folds. The source of his nerves became apparent, then; he didn't know what to do now that he had her here. The guidance he'd sought wasn't just emotional, but practical.

The grip she kept on his hair turned soothing.

"It's alright," she told him.

After all, she had been in the same position not so long ago, forced onto her knees before him. The sentiments surrounding their union had changed radically, even if the circumstances had not: they came together in the same bleak cell, and Rey remained the only one bare. This time, though, she almost didn't mind.

When his eyes found hers, they had the same wide uncertainty and vulnerability that she had seen once before, but this time, their kissing had caused his lips to grow pink and swollen. She bit down on her own lip, savoring the uncomposed image. As if that had given him something he wanted, he dove back in.

With his thumbs he spread her folds apart, and the stretching sensation of it had her sensitive flesh prickling with need. His eyes stayed fixed on her cunt, and with one thumb, he moved to swirl the liquid heat of her arousal against her opening, pressing at it, then sliding it up further to follow the center line of her slit. She shivered through it all, but writhed up off the cot when the flat pad of his thumb rolled over the bundle of nerves at the top, his direction pushing back the flesh that protected it from direct contact.

And Kylo, he had the nerve to look absolutely fucking awed by that reaction. He took another swipe with his thumb, all the way, and she erupted with a soft cry on her exhale. From there her eyes started to go out of focus as he circled his thumb around that point, working it with vigor.

He had no control over the pressure he used, couldn't tell what was too much or not enough like she could from the immediate feedback loop, but every time she started to get overstimulated, the tensing of her muscles caused him to ease up. These corrections did not stop it happening multiple times.

"You're so wet," he told her, like he couldn't believe it.

"For you." Tears clung to her eyelashes. "Just for you."

Snoke had given her to him. His problem, his task, his slave. This was the first time, though, that she saw awareness of that in his eyes. He had the possessive hunger, now, the need to _know her._ It was intoxicating to see him so engrossed. No one had ever looked at her like that, like she was something worthy of having.

It spoke to the greedy, starving parts of her and made them feel full.

He leaned in then, brought his lips to her clit. They were so soft, so warm, she almost lost herself. Instead a shuddering _oh_ escaped, and she gripped his hair tighter while he explored anew. He cycled through possible uses of his mouth and tongue; he kissed around her clit, and sucked her labia into his mouth, and probed his tongue inside of her, and dragged it up the length of her slit, and rubbed circles against her clit with it as his fingers had done.

And all the while she arched and moaned. Jakku had never taught her to take her pleasure quietly. There had never been anyone around to hear. He listened and adjusted, and soon he had the flat of his tongue pressing insistent circles into her clit while his thick fingers, still gloved, pressed inside of her.

The leather soaked up some of her slick, made the stretch a little stiffer, but she groaned into it. Still it fell nowhere close to the brutish shove of before. She arched her back, squeezing her legs around his shoulders to draw him nearer. She thought, briefly, she heard him _chuckle_ against her skin, but surely that was a mistake.

"Like that," she urged him, wanting no misunderstandings now that she was coming so close. A thin tremor rumbled down her legs, her whole body rattling like it was trying to make the jump to hyperspace. " _Oh,_ good. Good. — What?"

Her eyes snapped open as he stopped suddenly. His tongue, at least. His fingers continued pumping in her as he asked, "Do you trust me?"

He sounded crazed and desperate. She was too drunk on pleasure to give him anything but the most honest answer.

"I want to."

His other hand skimmed the length of her torso, closed around her throat.

Then he repeated, "Trust me." Imploring her. Begging her, really. Slowly, tongue heavy, she nodded rather than reply.

His grip squeezed, black leather digging into the soft flesh of her neck. Rey's eyes rolled up in time with the constricting pressure. Her groan was stifled, cut short by the closing of her airway. He'd promised. He'd promised that he wouldn't hurt her, and it didn't hurt. It felt good.

Dipping back down, Kylo flicked his tongue hard against her clit and she grunted, unable to expel any more air. She was growing dizzy as she ran out of air, but it almost _hurt_ with how sensitive she was. His fingers tightened, bruising, and she gaped like a fish, heels kicking and sliding against his back. He closed his lips around her clit and sucked, swirling his tongue as he had before.

The tension of her climax snuck up on her, as if wrung out of her by force. Her whole body contracted, bringing her to yank on his hair — to the sound of passionate encouragement from the back of his throat — and kick and thrash. Still his grip on her throat held steady, still he kept his tongue worrying little circles into her clit, still he pumped his fingers.

She was out of breath. Unable to make a sound, and dark shadows gathered in the corners of her vision.

"C—" It was a hard noise, violent, but he paid it no mind. He pushed her through, and Rey's thrashing became more intense just before another fresh wave doused her, a ripple of pleasure that rolled through her whole body and had her walls convulsing around his fingers, holding him there as a second climax took her.

It had never been this intense before. Handling herself had always been a perfunctory thing, a satisfied need and then moving on, like any chore. But she had been holding out for so long despite their activities until recently stirring her own arousal, and Kylo drank her down like he'd been the one starving.

She'd never stood a chance.

He did pull back then, thankfully, and as oxygen rushed back in, she choked on it, and the sensitive flesh of her cunt pulsed meaningfully as though the vessels there had constricted too. A final, white-hot twitch of pleasure. She whimpered with it, falling slack and boneless on her prison cot.

"I won't hurt you again."

Reiterating his vow seemed to bring him some resolve.

Rey looked down at him then, hearing it, and saw his face flushed and shining with her slick, hair all askew. She had not been prepared for how that would affect her. She bit down on her lip to smother a satisfied sound and nodded.

"I believe you."

"Good," he said, getting to his feet. "Then you'll come with me."

He extended her a hand. Rey's coltish legs were not the only thing to protest — she stared at that hand like it was a viper, repulsed and mistrusting despite her assurances moments before. She had let him choke her, gotten off on it, but he wanted to drag her before _Snoke._

Was this all a set-up to earn her trust? Had he manipulated her?

No. Rey couldn't allow herself to think that way. Kylo was the only human connection she had here, her only hope. She frowned, puzzling over it, but …

She reached out and took his hand, using it to help her stand. Leaning into him kept her on her feet as he brought his cape around her again. Some part of her had hoped she would get real clothes for the transport between rooms, but no. Of course not.

That kind of dignity was above the likes of her. Kylo would force himself on her for Snoke; why wouldn't he humiliate her just the same?

It would not be the worst thing she had suffered. She stepped out of the cell with him, and together they went to meet his master.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing says you liked this chapter like commenting! Even if it's just extra kudos. I'm happy to accept prompts if you come follow me on Tumblr at ~scavengertrash.


	4. Freedom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo presents Rey before Snoke. Rey begins to doubt whether or not she can trust Kylo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter include spanking (incl. pussy spanking, and with a belt), punishment play, exhibitionism/voyeurism (today's kinktober prompt!), begging, some heavy dubcon, and exploration of trauma following the noncon of chapter two. 
> 
> I added a chapter just in case I get to the next one and I can't wrap it up because this one ended more abruptly than I thought it would.

"I need clothes," she said as Ben led her out of the cell, shaky on her feet still. Spit and her own slick clung to the inside of her thighs, leaving her skin sticky and shining.

Kylo didn't answer her at first. He occupied himself with the security of her cell, with putting her in binders, and waved the stormtroopers away to signal that he would take custody of her. Custody. She was still a prisoner, after all that. His promises seemed less in the cold empty hallways of a star destroyer.

"I said I need clothes."

She stopped then, and he turned to look at her. Something twitched in his jaw.

"You cannot have them," he told her.

"Why?"

"The Supreme Leader wants to see that you have been broken." His voice had an edge to it, sharp and dangerous. He kept it low, watching the exit to the cellblock. "Do you understand?"

"No." In fact, she set her jaw, impatience simmering in her eyes. "You told me—"

"Yes. I did." He cut her off with hissing affirmation. "Now trust me."

It was a heady, low voice. One he reserved for her alone, but she wasn't sure that she could with all this added context, these layers, but hadn't he proven himself penitent? Didn't she believe? Rey searched his expression. No one else on this whole damn ship was on her side. There was no other soul in the galaxy that cared what happened to her, she was sure of it. Only him.

For all his crimes, Ben had never misled her. If he asked for her trust, it was because he intended to reward it. Whatever it would take to get them through this audience with Snoke would be worth it.

She swallowed her doubts and dropped her chin. She _felt_ Kylo nod, then his gloved hand reached for her back and he guided her out into the ship proper. At first Rey trailed slightly behind him, but he pushed her up ahead by the steering hand he had on the small of her back, nudging, and she obeyed.

The walk to Snoke's audience chamber continued in silence. A long silence, as it were. She had only the familiar touch of leather to comfort her, and it was a wan comfort. Thin and bare, as any emotion had ever been from him. She had fallen a long way to count on Kylo Ren as a source of comfort.

Officers and stormtroopers saw them go by, but they each averted their gaze — or seemed to — quickly upon spotting Kylo. Their glances were brief, but Rey squeezed her thighs together all the same, hoping to hide the mess of their earlier activities, as if it would lessen the shame of being trotted around nude. As if any of them were confused as to her purpose here.

And Kylo, inscrutable as always, she wondered what he saw when he looked down at her. She could feel it happen, the burning of his gaze on the bare slope of her shoulder. Did he see a whore?

She never got the chance to ask him. They took a lift to Snoke's throne room, an expansive red chamber filled with some half dozen armored guards. Up on a dais in the center of the room sat the decrepit figure of the Supreme Leader in a gaudy golden robe.

Ben's palm flattened on her back and shoved her out, and Rey staggered forward at his guidance, scowling when his hand closed around her upper arm a moment later to drag her along.

Snoke was all seething menace, his voice smoky like his curling fingers as he beckoned her closer for inspection. Paralyzed and drawn hovering towards him, Rey had no choice but to allow him to touch her, his shriveled hand caressing the slope of her neck.

Behind her, she thought she could feel Ben twitch too. She was not alone in this.

"So this is the girl who has resisted my apprentice," Snoke observed with too much ferocity for it really to be called criticism or insult. He was merely hacking away at her. "You don't look like much."

"Let me go, and I'll show you precisely what I am."

A terrible silence pierced the air. She should not have talked back. She should have acted like she was broken, silenced, frozen and subdued. But then all at once a cruel sound broke through, wheezing and dry. Snoke _laughed._

"Maybe you will."

He did, then. He let her go, and she collapsed into a limp pile of limbs at his feet before that hideous throne, and she wanted nothing more than to strangle him on it. Her hands curled, forming fists, but Snoke continued before she could lunge.

"Kylo Ren," he said. "Show me what she is."

He wouldn't. Any moment now, she knew, Kylo would put a stop to this. He would turn on Snoke, and they would find a way to be free of this.

"Girl," came Kylo's low voice, rumbling behind her. "Come here."

She picked herself up slowly, on wobbling, coltish legs. Sickening thought it was she put her back to Snoke. Kylo's face was hard, impassive. He hadn't even used her name. _Trust me,_ he had pleaded with her, but how could she when he made himself in the shape of a monster?

"Hmm. I can feel her intent." Snoke's voice seemed to wash over them both. "She believes she has stoked the light in you." Snoke's opinion of her ambitions was much higher than her own. There was no light left in Kylo Ren; she would settle for self-preservation. "She would destroy you. Do not allow your desire for her to tame you. If you want her, you must _break her._ And if she cannot be broken, then you must eliminate your weakness."

Rey came to stop in front of him, hands bound in front of her, chin lifted that she could look in his eyes. She feared what she saw there. He looked empty, wrung out. If Snoke's words had gotten to him, changed his mind from what he had professed in the cell, then there was no way out of this.

He would beat her, wound her, and then maybe he would kill her lest he make himself vulnerable again without intending it.

"Tell me what you want me to do."

On the surface the request seemed to hint at servility, but beneath it was a genuine plea for him to tell her what she could do that would keep him hers, not Snoke's. She needed at least one of them to be in control of what was happening. Fear and past experience prevented her from seeing that as Kylo Ren — he had, after all, lost control every time they'd tried to come together before. He'd given himself over to her, he'd given himself over to Snoke. He had no control.

Beyond that, if she were going to be made to perform before Snoke like some Hutt's dancer, she was going to hold out hope that there would be less pain. Compliance was her route to that.

Despite her offer — or perhaps because of it — Kylo grabbed her by the hair and yanked. He didn't seem to know yet where he wanted to guide her, so Rey slipped down onto her knees. Her hands were bound, but together like this, she could still handle him. She reached for his waistband.

"Stop," he rasped out.

Her fingers froze and she looked up at him. For the first time she saw the fear there in his eyes, a mirror of her own. It did nothing to reassure her, but at least she was not alone in it. He knew as she did that he had failed to maintain control every other time; that their lives depended upon it now, on showing Snoke something that had never been real.

Slowly she lowered her hands.

"Yes, sir."

And she waited. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled with Snoke's glee, but she tried to shut him out — to focus only on Kylo, and hope that Kylo could do the same. She waited long enough that her ankles grew tired from the bend, but she didn't dare shift.

"Well?" asked Snoke.

"Sit down," Kylo ordered her. They could delay no longer. Rey slid her knees out from under her and brought her hands up to rest atop them, bent before her. "And spread your legs."

"How wide?"

"As wide as you can."

And she did. It meant kicking her heels out slightly, widening the angle of her knees, but she parted her thighs wide enough to expose her still sticky cunt to the cold, open air of the throne room. She looked around and noted the praetorians standing impassive, wondering if behind their helmets they were watching too.

"Touch yourself." His voice was softer, made thick with genuine desire. It was that alone which led her to assent quickly.

With her back to Snoke, it did not even seem too unfortunate. The binders dug into her abdomen as she worked, but her fingers found her clit, toying circles around it, remembering the feeling of his tongue. The surge of warmth under her skin made her eyes flutter shut, and goosebumps raced across her flesh, as if the cold of the room had hit her anew.

"Thank you," she breathed. "Mmm."

"You do not break an animal by feeding it." Snoke's dry disapproval jerked her out of her reverie, snapped her eyes open that she might look up at Kylo again. Her lips parted to make room for ragged breath, and she wet them. It was true. Kylo had only fed her, given her what she wanted. He was still trying to make up for the crimes he'd committed against them both. (Good. He ought to. She had not forgotten them.) Unfortunately his apology would not do what they needed to do.

She understood now, or thought she did. The Supreme Leader wanted to see that she had been broken. For that, he could not only have her obedient, but he needed to push her beyond her limits and keep her that way.

"I'm almost there," she whispered. "Please."

Her hips rocked urgently up towards her fingers, the pressure on her clit direct now. He caught her warning and said in a cold voice, "Stop."

And she did, though with a whine.

"Please," she begged again. "I've been so patient."

"You don't come unless I'm inside of you."

He was being kind to say it. Warning her. He had not been inside of her since the incident with the interrogation chair. Her stomach churned, but at least she knew to expect it now. Rey's heartbeat quickened. She did not want it to happen again in front of Snoke. She did not want it to happen again while she could not control it, could not steer the direction of things, but she would not have a choice. She needed to live.

"Can I have your cock, then?" She looked nervous. Not the way anyone ought to look begging for a good fuck. "I'll make you feel good."

"I don't think you've earned it," he looked away from her as he said it, to Snoke. To the unspoken third party for whom they put on this show. Rey's blood chilled. "You disrespected our Supreme Leader."

"Should I suck his cock instead?"

 _"No."_ Kylo bit that out with a suddenly vehemence. Snoke said nothing, only observed, but Rey could sense scrutiny on that surge of possessiveness. It had been unwise to stoke it in him, but she could not deny the way it warmed her skin, mitigating the effects of his distraction now that he was looking at her again. "You are mine. But he is my master."

"Will I get to see you suck his cock?"

She sounded too smug. But she needed to allow that to leak through if Kylo was to break her, tame her, before Snoke's eyes.

"No. He will get to see how I teach you respect for your betters." Kylo stripped off his belt. "On your hands and knees."

"I'll be better. I swear, I won't do it again."

"Turn around," he growled. "Now."

"Please, don't—" He grabbed her by the hair again, dragged her off balance, and threw her to the ground. Rey spilled onto her hands, the rest of her weight on one of her hips. Not quite her hands and knees, but close enough. She bit down on her tongue as she did. "I'm sorry."

"Not yet," he said. "You will be."

"Don't, don't do this." She kept thinking about that belt. He had not hurt her before, not with _tools._ He had only hurt her with his overeagerness to follow orders, with his disregard for her interest. "I'll do better. I'm sorry."

"Quiet." He knelt behind her, pulled her legs out from under her to make her sprawl out on her stomach. She looked up from where she stretched out on that cold steel floor, found Snoke's gaze bearing down into her. He need not do anything to make her suffer. Kylo would do it all for him. "You need to be punished. There is a lesson in pain, Rey, one you will learn."

Her name. He'd said her name. It broke through the haze of uncertainty, of doubt.

She bit down on her lip and bowed her back, pressing her forehead to the floor as she pulled up onto her hands and knees. She did not want Snoke to see the light behind her eyes.

"I only want to hear you count."

She did not have to ask, 'count what?' He showed her right away. The belt in his hands cracked down on her backside, a snap of leather that stung her skin. Rey cried out with it, half a howl.

"Count," he hissed again, snapping her a second time. The burn spread. Half of the skin he struck had already been hit, and it burned worse, blood vessels bruised by the force. The rest was freshly hyperaware in the wake of what had happened before.

"Two." She sputtered out the word.

He had four more for her, and he made her count each one until tears rolled down her cheeks and her shoulders had pressed forward, dropping her upper body entirely to the floor. She shivered with it.

"No more," she begged. "No more, please. I'll respect you. I'll respect you both. Whatever you want, I'll do it. Just please …"

"Please what?" It was Snoke who asked it, leaning forward on his throne. She felt like an animal in a cage, observed by him, and more protective of the streaks of white left by tears across her red cheeks. She did not want to be vulnerable before him, but they were left with no choice.

 _Release me,_ she wanted to beg. Or maybe, _Kill him._

She looked up into Snoke's eyes thinking it. Some part of her hoped he could hear. If he could, it did nothing to change his expression. Apparently he was not entirely bothered by thoughts, only by actions.

"Fuck me." Her speech was slurred and ragged. "Come inside of me. I'm yours."

He did not drop the belt. With one gloved hand, he rubbed at her backside here he had left welts, and she whimpered at the contact, so similar but with so much less force. Flinching couldn't be helped, but she swallowed down her noises.

"Does it hurt?" He asked, like he cared.

"Yes." Rey admitted, shameful. "I like it."

"What would your friends in the Resistance say, to see you like this?"

"I don't …" She choked on the words. It touched too close to something real. "I don't want to see them."

Rather, she did not want them to see her like this. A distinct difference, and important. Kylo's breath, too, came out shaky and uneven. He was pleased. She could tell that now. It reminded her of how he'd sounded while she was sucking him off.

"You don't?"

She made a noise of refusal and shook her head quickly.

"Because you can't take anymore?" He sounded almost caring. A pale imitation of it.

"Yes," she mumbled. "I can't. I'm done. Please."

"I think you can," he said. "I'm going to strike you one more time. Are you ready?"

Rey drew in a long, steadying breath. She wasn't. She wouldn't be, though, no matter how she tried to prepare herself. One more round with that belt would be too much. If she blacked out from the pain, it would be his own fault. But then she thought at least she'd be unconscious for the rest.

Unfortunately each strike against her backside had made her wetter, paradoxically. The pain was so real, bright and blinding, but she could feel slick dripping down her inner thighs, pleading for attention to her cunt. Her sodden folds prickled, coming alive, begging for attention. Keenly aware of every shift, as if the nerves were reaching out for any stimulation.

She got what she wanted and more than she bargained for all at once.

Kylo's belt came down again, leather snapping against her wet slit, and Rey let out a choked sound, shattering apart from the sudden stimulation. The shame of it was worse than the pain, almost, and the pain caused the edges of her vision to go black, and colors to spot across the world. Her whole body buzzed with the aftershocks of the hit.

And of her climax.

It was the source of the shame, that sudden convulsing of her inner walls, the slide of her knees, the way tremors wracked her body and set loose a new rush of tears. Kylo did not allow her to slacken with it. He reached around, one gloved hand clutching her jaw, and forced her to look up on Snoke, whose expression curled into something smug. He had won.

She squeezed her eyes shut.

"Look," Kylo whispered.

And Snoke's pleased smile dropped. He hiccuped, but not quite. It was like a fish, drowning on land. He gulped for air and none would come. He thrashed, and nothing worked. Fury darkened his gaze.

She had not noticed him unbutton his pants, free himself, but Kylo's cock thrust up inside of her all at once then, while she watched Snoke writhe, breathless. In one swift stroke, he had buried himself in her. She gasped, eyes wide as Snoke's while his throat closed tighter and tighter until it collapsed on itself and he went slack.

Rey, though, she only grew more tense. The steady slide of Kylo's cock against her inner walls stimulated her already sensitive nerve endings, holding her at the edge. This time he didn't feel painfully unfit to be inside of her. This time she bloomed under him, her flesh soft and supple and welcoming, coming alive under his touch. She squeezed around him, but not to hold him out. It was a lover's embrace.

"Oh—" She shuddered. "Good. Yes."

 _"Tight."_ He growled it into her neck. The praetorians closed in around Snoke's figure, trying to assess it, taking Kylo and Rey alike as lost to their tribute for him. "You came too soon."

His voice shook with such a threat that she came apart again, or perhaps she'd never stopped, but she lost her grip again, jerking and convulsing beneath him. It was good, yes, but too good. She was limp under him while he finished, only a minute after.

The praetorians had, by then, turned their attention on Rey and Kylo. Kylo pulled himself free of Rey's cunt and as he got to his feet, he pushed out with the Force and knocked them off their feet. A wave of solid energy. Rey slid onto her hip, half-turning to look up at him. Her hands were trapped in the binders still, but he sprung them open with a click.

Then he reached his hand down for her and pulled her to her feet.

Words weren't needed. They had come beyond that now. The first praetorian guard that Kylo dropped, Rey robbed of his weapon. She turned it against the rest, fending them off with him, buck naked and shaking still with the aftershocks of the most intense orgasm of her life.

When they were dead, both of them were gasping. Rey staggered up to the throne to gape at Snoke's body. She turned then, searching Kylo's similarly awed expression. He looked so lost. She clung to that immediately, leaping at the opportunity.

"We're free," she told him, encouraging, hopeful. "It's over. We can leave."

Kylo approached the throne beside her, a slowness in his steps. He was surer-footed now, yes, but he didn't look at her. He watched the throne.

"We're right where we need to be."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I rushed the praetorian fight on this but it just seemed redundant with TLJ. Lots of this was similar to TLJ, but the rest was specific enough that it didn't feel like wasted effort in the way the fight scene did. 
> 
> Let me know what you thought of this chapter! I'm curious to know what things you think still need to be resolved in order to help bring this to a close. I'll make sure to hit those beats in the next chapter or two.


	5. Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben and Rey grapple with the growing darkness in themselves left behind in the wake of Snoke's death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my last Kinktober prompt! Technically it was for day 29 (double penetration), but instead it took me this long. I probably won't get a chance for an epilogue on this story until December rolls around, but keep the faith! I'll be back. 
> 
> Other warnings on this chapter include intense BDSM, Master/Slave dynamics as always, heavy dubcon/noncon elements, and anal training (including plugs).

Kylo, as it turned out, did not want to leave. He sank his teeth in, holding tight to what he had known, to the place that had made her a slave twice over. And Rey, trembling, she approached him with fearful insistence.

"We will never be safe here," she told him.

She knew he could feel it was true. She was attuned to his emotions as if they were her own, the heat of the battle a still-lingering roil that threatened to drown out all sense in both their minds.

"We _are_ ," said Kylo fervently. He rounded to face her, dark eyes aflame. "He's gone."

As if he were the only problem.

"And you killed him." Rey's voice was stiff. There would be consequences; surely he knew that. Surely he recognized that this was an impossibility. "I'm not staying here."

Darkness descended over his features. The line of his mouth hardened, the spark in his eyes grew more wild. Less bright. She saw violence there, the same violence she'd seen in the forest.

"Ben."

It was the first time she had ever used that name, and they both seemed to startle with the force of it. That name held power over him. She saw it.

"You told me to trust you, and I have. But we need to leave."

"There is nowhere else to go," he replied.

"We can go to the Resistance."

"Can we?" Something calculating flashed in his expression and he drew closer to her. "Where is that, Rey? Where are they?"

She did not get the sense that he wanted to know to go there.

"I—"

Across the chamber, the doors of the lift slid open. Their heads both whipped in that direction, and Kylo seized her by the back of the neck, dragging her down off the dais as the red-headed officer came inside. Something ugly churned in her stomach as the pain shot up her neck, but then Kylo shoved her to the ground, and it was worse. She spilled out between them.

"Is that—" The man drew up towards the dais, but Kylo stretched out a hand to stop him. "Supreme Leader!"

"It's done," said Kylo. "The girl killed him."

Rey opened her mouth to speak and found she could not. Neither could she breathe for that matter.

" _You—"_

"Don't touch her." Kylo forced him back by the front of his chest before the man could get anywhere near her. The movement seemed impatient, but nothing rippled in his expression. This was the constant puzzle, the base problem, of Kylo Ren. He was unreadable, just as he had been when he killed his father.

"Do not presume to give me orders, Ren." Panic pitched in the officer's voice. "Our leader is dead!"

"Snoke is dead," Kylo conceded. "The First Order survives, General. I survive."

"You?" sneered the General. "You could not even keep this girl contained."

"Me."

The air rushed back into her lungs as Kylo reached out a hand to squeeze around the General's neck, lifting him into the air without ever touching him. The General gasped and kicked, thrashing against it, simpering now.

It seemed Kylo had not the presence of mind to maintain both. Rey rushed to speak.

"I didn't do it." She choked on the words, coughing. It was too important to get them out; she didn't dare stop to catch her breath. If she could sabotage this, tell Hux the truth, then they'd both be fugitives. Kylo would have no choice but to flee with her. "I didn't kill him. _Kylo Ren did._ "

"He is dead all the same," said Kylo in a flat voice. He did not turn from his path, but squeezed tighter. The General's eyes went wider, rage and suffocation alike reddening his face. For a fearful moment, she was sure it would mean nothing. That the General would die here, this horrible man who she'd wished death on before, who she still saw as both an enemy and her only tool. But then—

"Long live the Supreme Leader," rasped the red-headed man.

Kylo dropped him and allowed him to regain his breath.

It was done. Just like that. A chill descended upon Rey and she stared down at her hands on the floor, feeling suddenly distant from her body.

"What will be done with Snoke's murderer, Supreme Leader?" The General asked as he pushed himself to his feet.

Oh. Yes. Surely she would be punished. She would take on the guilt. It didn't matter what was true, or what had really happened. All that mattered was that Kylo Ren had the power to kill anyone who contested his version of events.

Snarling, she insisted, "I haven't murdered anyone."

The General reached for her, but Kylo rebuffed him again. Harder, this time, throwing him into the viewport several feet away.

"You will not touch her." He sounded savage, protective like an animal. "She's mine."

For a moment, fury rippled through the General's expression. He looked like a cornered animal, ready to bite back, but his gaze flickered to Rey, then back to Kylo Ren, and he slowly nodded.

"Of course, Supreme Leader." He rubbed at his neck, as though remembering.

Rey had been right. They weren't safe here, not with the way that General looked at them. But Kylo was too blind to see it. When he turned to her then, imperious and high off the power that he had secured for himself, she could see that she had angered him in the same way he'd angered the General.

All of them, cornered beasts.

But only one of them had promised to spare her further pain.

Kylo grabbed her by the arm and hauled her to her feet. At first Rey thrashed and resisted, but he grabbed her other arm, and stared down at her.

"You will only make it worse."

He was right. Surviving did not mean fighting here. Even if she managed to stay on the floor, she was still naked in the throne room of the dead Supreme Leader. It was hard to admit that it was futile, but the evidence was laid bare before her in the shape of every corpse. She could go for a weapon, and where would that get her?

Lip trembling, Rey got to her feet, then yanked her arm back.

The General watched it all to his great fascination.

"Take care of this," Kylo told him. And he urged Rey out of the chamber.

 

To say that nothing changed would be disingenuous and short-sighted. But the shadow of her previous imprisonment hung over these new conditions. Kylo moved her into his quarters with a grace that indicated he believed he was doing her a favor. One he didn't consider her to have deserved, judging by the way he kept her like a pet.

She was still bound, still stripped, still watched like a prisoner. Only she had nicer lodgings, and she was forced to share his bed. After she had rinsed off with him that night, Rey had tried to go to the lounge across the oversized room, but he called her to him there.

He pulled her against him as soon as she was under the sheets, kissing into her neck.

When she tried to turn him away the first night, squirm away from his touch, he had grabbed her by the chin, looked her in the eyes, and said, "I wanted better for you. I would have kept you as my equal, but you betrayed me."

As if she had been the one to break trust. As if he hadn't recanted his promise first, to not harm her.

This time, when he used her body, it was because he wanted to. Not because anyone else had forced him.

"You should be punished."

"You've already punished me," she rasped out, loathing trembling in her voice.

His hand stayed on her hip as he recalled their encounter in the throne room. It had been a manufactured crime that he'd struck her for, and she did not want to suffer it again without any hope at all that he was doing it for her benefit, that they might come through it together in the end. Slowly he moved his hand to her waist, and she let out a relieved breath.

"True."

She could have wept then, glad to be spared, but his fingers soughtthe sore folds of her cunt, and she realized she would not be spared at all. The pain, yes, but there was more.

"Open your legs," he told her. She didn't, but he forced them open anyway, shifting to kneel between them. The covers slid off of them, chilling Rey and Kylo both. Annoyance shot through him, boiling over that she could feel it firsthand. It turned to frustration, and he burst out with an irritated demand. "Why are you resisting me?"

He truly could not imagine. Rey studied his face, distress writ across her own.

"Because I don't want to do this." Did he really need it explained? "If this is how it's going to be, I don't want _you."_

For a long, fractured moment they stared at one another, Kylo struck into silence, visibly perplexed, and Rey hard but appalled. He thought he could have her and the First Order. He'd believed she would be made content being his slave, opening her legs whenever he wanted, when all she'd wanted was to escape.

She'd believed he'd wanted that for her too. She was a fool.

And still she let herself hope that he'd turn over, that he'd sleep, discontent as he was, and recognize that he could do nothing to change her mind. A fool twice over, then, for he instead spit on her cunt and used one hand to smear his saliva against her, and pump a finger inside the tight passage of her body.

"You will," he said firmly.

 

He took her every night after that, progressively more experimental, using her as a way to study himself more than anything else. Kylo took his time with her, experimenting with harnesses and toys she'd never seen before. Always, at the end, he looked into her eyes, searching for something. Forgiveness, she thought. But only empty resignation looked back at him, and he was left in an increasingly tempestuous mood when he realized that what he wanted was the one thing he could not take from her.

If he wanted her, really wanted her, he had to bend to her.

Rey knew that, but she wasn't sure that he did. It was better to assume he hadn't allowed it to sink in than to assume he knew and had refused. Hope was all she had, now that Kylo Ren was in control of the First Order, and she had helped put him there only to become his _slave_ instead of his equal.

He came back to her one night pacing and frantic. Something had gone wrong.

"Where are they?" He demanded, cornering her against one of the walls of their quarters. No, his quarters. She still had no ownership of this place, even now.

"What?"

"The Resistance. You know." He grabbed her arm. "And it's time for you to tell me."

She skimmed the surface of his mind without meaning to, and her eyes fluttered wider.

"Skywalker is with them."

He shoved her aside then, and she staggered, her heart fluttering when she sensed the fear that crawled up into his throat, crazing him. Rey twisted to watch him pace the room, her own fear quiet but sharp in the back of her mind. Eventually he would turn that instability on her.

"You have their location. I know that you do. _Give it to me._ "

"I won't." She said. "You can't intimidate me."

"No?" He drew up to her, violently brisk in his approach, and studied her face. After a moment's thoughtful pause, he seemed to accept her resolve. "No."

She knew better than to believe that was the end of it. Slowly his gaze skated down her body, taking in the sharp lines and bony prominences and corded muscle. She had grown softer in her time here, filling out some of what had been flat or starved, but she was still not much to look at. He seemed to believe otherwise, for his breath hitched faintly.

"You still don't want to be here," he observed, trailing his fingers down her abdomen. "You think that you will save yourself by sparing them."

Saying anything would only aggravate him further, so Rey turned her face away, smothered her disgust, and allowed him his exploration. Silently permitting it must have been worse, for he reached up to grab her face. He wouldn't say it, though, wouldn't make his unhappiness known. It would mean giving her a win, admitting her methods worked on him.

This was how they did battle now.

"On your knees," he told her.

If following orders would give him the impression that she was an active participant, then his standards were lower than she believed. Rey wasn't fooled. She turned around and made her way to the bed. The ambient sounds of his movement behind her encouraged Rey to turn, but she wouldn't. She placed her palms firmly on the mattress and spread her knees, keeping her head straight, her gaze forward.

When he touched her, his fingers were freezing, covered in artificial lubricant that he smeared against the pucker of her ass. Rey's eyes pressed shut as her muscles clenched — some mixture of dread and anticipation. This wasn't the first time. Like before, when he was done, she would not be glad he had done it, but it would satisfy her in other ways.

He started with two fingers instead of just one, too thick by far, stretching open her unwilling body with determination. Rey cried out as they lanced deep inside of her, ducking her head, squeezing her eyes shut.

"Don't resist," he murmured unhelpfully. Her hands balled around fistfuls of sheets. "This is where you belong. Just like this. With me."

"It's not." She choked on the words. She knew what he wanted. She knew she'd pay for giving him anything else, but she wasn't going to listen to this. Letting him have her was bad enough. "It's _not."_

"No?" He withdrew his fingers, damage done.

If he was pulling back, it was only so that he could replace his fingers with his cock too soon. Usually he'd have worked her up more slowly. Usually he'd give her a third finger before he tried to make her take something like —

Rey's eyes snapped wide open as something cold pressed to the opening of her ass, and she clenched to resist it.

"What—" She huffed out a breath. "What are you doing?"

When she turned to look over her shoulder, she could make out more clearly that he wasn't kneeling close enough behind her for it to be any part of him. No, he was holding something against her entrance in his hand. Something small enough that she couldn't glimpse it.

Rather than reply he clapped his free hand against her ass, rippling the muscle with the force of his strike. She bit down hard to hold in her cry, swallowed the sound, and exhaled hard through her nose. He pushed her, and Rey grimaced through it, slowly forcing herself to relax. Harnessing any semblance of calm seemed impossible, but slowly her body opened up, muscles loosening, and something cold and hard shunted its way inside, stretching her briefly before anchoring in her body, narrower near the — _base?_ A flat bottom held it in place inside of her, and Rey release a held breath.

"How does it feel?"

Strange. That's what she would have said if she wished to speak to him at all. But she didn't, so she wisely kept her mouth shut.

His fingers reached underneath her, brushing against her clit, and her whole body twitched tighter. A hungry sound slipped out of her throat, the pressure of that heavy plug suddenly greater, more pronounced.

"That's what I thought."

That was how she came to understand the game. He wanted her to want this, thought he could lure her with sexual pleasure now that he had learned her, explored her, adapted. (It worked before, said a scolding voice inside her mind. _But not now._ She had learned better.)

Knowing it did not stop the work of his fingers, which continued to rub deceptively gentle circles against her clit. Her inner walls clamped down uselessly against nothing, clenching her ass at the same time, squeezing her around that toy. And when her body twitched, her hips shifting to try to escape the pleasure, he grabbed onto her. The toy anchored itself inside of her without his guidance, it seemed, for her came up to press against her, holding one of her hips to pull her flush against his chest, bent half over her, while his other hand continued to toy with her.

She came with a choked sob, fighting it all the way, a sudden trembling that rippled all the way down to her knees and threw her shoulders forward, casting loose hair down into her face. The tremors kept her pulsing around nothing, as though her cunt were confused by its own emptiness.

It was a painful reminder — he was getting nothing out of this. He could continue as long as he wanted.

His fingers brushed too directly against her clit, not letting up when she was raw and sensitive and coming off her climax, and she whimpered, thrashing against his chest.

"Please," she insisted, the stiff resolve from just minutes earlier gone already. "I can't."

And he let up. Yes, she knew his game well. He wanted to bend her, and already he had. Rey heaved each breath, shuddering.

"Tell me what you want," he said. "I'll give it to you. Anything."

"You," she said.

They both knew it was unfair. He would not give her himself because he believed he already had, and that she was the traitor. He struck her again for it, and she gritted through it even as the burn spread across the prickling skin of her backside.

"Tell me."

She was not sure anymore if he was asking for her to beg for him or if he still wanted information on the Resistance. It didn't seem to matter anymore.

"Your cock," she offered instead. "Give me your cock."

At least it would be over then. For a while he said nothing, rubbing more gently at her folds, allowing her to come down. Then with both his thumbs, he spread her open, and rubbed himself along the length of her slit. She shut her eyes and hissed. He hadn't the temperament for teasing. She would not have to suffer him long, but he had not even removed the toy to replace it.

He wouldn't. She felt the head of his cock nudge at the entrance to her cunt with the toy still securely plugged in her ass. Her whole body flinched.

"It's too much," she mumbled. "You're too big."

"Not for you," he cooed. Whatever preening confidence she might have felt in this compliment was wan and bare in the face of his cock starting to press inside of her. The pressure was immense, like being split open from the inside. "You take me so well."

This was not well at all. She tore at the sheets, forehead pressing down against the bed as her back arched and bowed and twisted, trying to find an angle at which it didn't feel like her body was going to stretch and split and tear. Oh, it was too much. Far too much. But he didn't care. He took shallow thrusts at first, groaning, telling her how tight she felt as if she didn't know herself.

Gradually, he worked his way deeper until he was seated within her, and Rey had drooled a puddle into the sheets trying to hold it together.

Already she could sense that she wouldn't last, but as he started to move again, she realized it wasn't a relief to her that he'd finish soon. No, as she began to accommodate both, that sense of overwhelming fullness went from painful pressure to a wholeness, something pleasant and necessary that brought her to the brink of panic and held her there, lingering in the severity of what she — no, what he had pushed her body to.

He reached around her and she cried out.

"No, no, please," but despite her protests, he rolled his thumb across her clit. The pain returned in a flare as her whole body clamped around him.

"You want it," he said. "I can feel it."

"It hurts."

Still he thrust forward, caressing her clit steadily in time with his own thrusts, and Rey's eyes rolled up. He wasn't going to take long, but she wasn't going to last at all. The trouble was that each time she got close, she seized up, and the pain broke through the haze of her arousal — or, almost worse, his hand would let up at her clit, his breath ragged.

Her effect on him remained, then, even if he persisted in this.

Still he nudged her over the edge, and this time, when the pleasure mounted, when tension ripped through her body, it was not just a sob in the back of her throat. Tears trickled down her face, overwhelmed with how he surrounded her, how he filled her in every way, how she could not escape him.

Worst was how good it felt, how close she was to him, while still feeling a coldness, like he was far away.

He pulled the plug out then, withdrew briefly so he could finish instead in its place, driving himself into her stretched asshole, spreading her, squeezing her flesh, jerking erratically until he lost himself in thick spurts.

When he could compose himself, he leaned into her ear.

"Why won't you let me give you this?" He asked. "I can make you whole. I know you want it." He combed her hair out of her face so he could look at her cheek, admiring her. This was for him, even if he pretended the rest had been about showing her some new pleasure. "Let me give it to you."

"And all I need to do …"

"Tell me where they are, Rey."

She closed her eyes, let her trembling knees come out from under her. Still slick with cum and her arousal, his dick slipped out to make a mess of them both as they came apart. She didn't react to the sudden wet slap of skin, nor to the stickiness.

"No."

As long as it was like this, she would never be his. Could never be his.

The numb realization seemed to draw him away from her, and instead of staying, he went to clean himself off in the refresher. She lost track of how long he was gone, losing herself in her tears. In all the time she had spent with him, she had never felt dirty like this. But he'd brought interrogation into their bed, and he'd turned her into a tool just as Snoke had done.

If Ben Solo were still in there, he must have been deeply buried indeed.

Rey sniffed and reached for the plug he'd taken out of her. It was solid metal. Small, but sturdy. If she used it for a weapon, she might get him unconscious. Then she had only the entire ship to scramble across, bare, to find a ship that she could not pilot and escape. But it would be better than staying here.

Slowly, she climbed up out of the bed and approached the refresher door. She wait beside it, back pressed to the wall, breathing even. He could feel her intent, surely. Not murder. Only escape. Maybe he would expect it. If he did, she would suffer worse, but if he were too foggy-headed with his own orgasm, then maybe, maybe …

She had to hope. If she stayed here, she could not hold onto that. So she had to try.

The door slid open and Rey raised the tiny metal plug, held securely in her palm with the base between two fingers. She made to strike him with it, but he fixed her with a flat stare, and she froze.

He didn't move. Didn't react to defend himself. He only waited for it to come.

Rey lowered her makeshift weapon.

"I will bring you clothes," he said. "And secure you a shuttle."

The metal plug clattered to the ground. Her hand dropped to her side slowly. Slack-jawed, she stared at him in utter silence, waiting for some explanation that never came. It didn't make sense. She could not see how the change had happened in him, when he had given up where she hadn't. All she could see was that he had.

It was real.

"You're letting me go?"

He nodded only barely.

"… Are you coming with me?"

He didn't seem to understand the question.

"Ben, this isn't you."

"Clothes," he repeated. "And a shuttle."

Then he turned away from her to find his own pants first, looking too uncomfortable to engage what she had suggested. And why shouldn't he be? Rey, for her own part, was completely numb with shock that he had suggested this at all. If she had broken through to him, she had not seen the moment it happened.

But he'd changed. He'd seen something, tonight.

In turn, she had seen something too — the light of Ben Solo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you thought!


End file.
